


Partners In Crime

by tinx_r



Category: Alex Delaware Series - Jonathan Kellerman
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 06:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19101748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinx_r/pseuds/tinx_r
Summary: While working a case, Milo reflects on his friendship with Alex.





	Partners In Crime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [giallos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giallos/gifts).



> I hope and trust, dear recipient, that you enjoy this.

Alex Delaware. Smartass, tightass, know-it-all professor-type, straight in that metrosexual way the good ol' nineties was famous for. 

In my life, guys like him are either peeing themselves in an interrogation room or smiling as sweet as you please and refusing to say where they buried her. Yes sir.

Only it so happens that Mr. Psycho-head-shrinker-with-a-pee-aitch-dee is the closest thing I got to a best friend. Closest thing I ever had to a best friend, you want to split hairs about it.

He's off on some tangent now, some online research he's been doing to track down this perp we got, the one with a fancy for chopping up whores into bite-size pieces. Keeps glancing sideways at me like he's not sure I'm gonna pat him on the head or kick his ass.

Yup, he's about one-quarter French Bulldog, but the rest is terrier. Trust me. Once he gets hold of something he don't give up.

Even fat gay cops, turns out.

I love this guy.

We're back at his place, couple days later, like always he's waved me to the fridge and I'm taking advantage. What Rick don't know won't hurt him, and everything in our fridge is green and/or dairy free. The real French Bulldog is sniffing round my feet, and the other one's scrolling on his laptop. 

"Good dog," I say, and he doesn't look up, figuring I'm talking to Blanche.

I go stand behind him, because I know he's onto something. Terrier, I'm telling ya. 

And there it is. Herpetologist. Giant snakes. Giant chunks of meat. 

"He's feeding those girls to his pythons? Jesus, that's sick."

Alex says something midway between psychobabble and agreeing with me, because shrink or not, he knows looney-tunes when he sees it. Let's face it, he's seen enough. And then we gotta prove it.

Let me tell you, seizing a 10-foot python wasn't on my bucket list. You hear me? Neither was getting chewed out by the Chief, or working six nights straight trying to prove where the damn snake came from, let alone a connection between Mr. Snake Charmer and your friendly neighborhood john-with-a-meat-cleaver.

But we did it, or rather, I did it, because let's face it, proof is up to the cop in this partnership. Him, he just figures out the answer, puts his feet up.

I got him an unofficial role with the police, so's we could work together. Man, time to time, I fantasize about this guy, you know? Only not how you're thinking. He don't float my boat, that way.

My fantasy? He's my partner. Academy, uniform, beat cop, D. Now Lieutenant. It's been a long, goddamn lonely haul. Those days he's squeezed in my pokey little office, pawing my screen, eying up my tie like the dog chewed it, you don't even know how that feels. 

I never had a partner I believed had my back, I could chew the fat with, I didn't have to prove anything (except the perp and his goddamn snake). Every guy I rode with looked down his nose, or snivelled off to mama because the big bad cop was being mean. 

I got used to going it alone, believe me. And I even kinda like it. But I like it better when he's along for the ride.

If he'd actually joined the force instead of getting that fancy-schmancy piece of scrollwork, of course, we'd likely have never met. Never been partnered up, what with his smarts, he'd have fast-tracked I guess. He's got the look. But I don't let that get in the way. 

We don't hang out a hell of a lot, I guess. Busy lives, busy partners, and the downtime we get, we owe them something too. Trying to fit in a date with all four of us is an exercise in project management, believe you me. But a case is a different matter entirely, and yeah, I've called him up plenty when I didn't need his expertise, per se. 

Some cases I just feel like I need backup, a sounding board, a partner. And hell, he doesn't complain, and it gets him out of the house.

Then, sometimes, I need him. His expertise, his training, his way with people. The letters after his name, that way he has of looking down his nose that makes the stuffed shirts start leafing through their diaries, checking their alibis. Looking for their own head-pats. 

These days I make sure not to take up too much of his time. Him and Robin got it back together, not my place to have an opinion or get in the way. Hell, I like her well enough, but you know how it is. Someone, anyone, wrecks your best friend, you don't just forget. You just tuck that away and watch, and do what you can when you have to.

He knows I'm low, he'll buy me dinner. I know he's low, I'll call him up about murder one. Hey, it's not for everyone, I guess, but it's how we work, and we been friends a long time now. Partners. 

Snake-guy pulled out all the stops, and in the end LAPD put Alex on the stand to talk about childhood trauma and snake fetishes plus the Madonna-whore thing which has always creeped me out. He was as smooth as you please, deflecting the defense who wanna make him admit he doesn't know, there's no way to know, instead wowing the jury with case-facts wrapped up in psycho babble to make them feel important and educated. No-one, but no-one, works a crowd like Alex. 

Department should hire him as comms manager. Talk to the media, simmer down the Chief, hell, even the perps could line up for a regular Sunday sermon, find their way to the light. This guy, he talks, you wanna believe him. Simple as that.

The jury loved him. The defense wanted his testimony struck. I wanted him to sit in on my next case, but he'd spent the best part of six weeks as my shadow, so I sucked it up and went at it alone.

Turned out, I solved it no problem. But it wasn't as sweet. 

Not until I called in for a catch-up and ran it all by him, that was. I valued the input. I valued the lasagna. I valued Blanche snuffling around my feet, and I valued his intense expression as he looked from laptop screen to case notes.

My pal. My _partner_.


End file.
